Growing Up With Horses

                                                            by Laura Crum

            My son has been raised with horses. Ever since he was a baby he rode with me on my horse—first on Flanigan, and then after Flanigan died, on Plumber. I know—no helmet—but we never had one problem.

            When my kid was five years old I bought him a pony and for two years he rode Toby—first on the leadline and then independently. He learned to ride on that pony.

            Toby died when my son was seven and I bought Henry for him. And on this good red horse he rode miles and miles—on the beach, through the hills, gathering cattle, in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Those of you who have followed this blog for a few years know about all our many horseback adventures. We never had one wreck or even a bad moment. And my son loved to ride.

            When my boy became a teenager his interest in riding began to lessen. This didn’t surprise me. Horses were my passion, and I was happy to share them with him, but I always thought there would come a day when he might want to find his own interests. And lo and behold he began to devote what free time he had to making music, playing golf, and designing video games. He still rode with me once in awhile, but less and less.

            There was a certain serendipity to this because the year my son began to lose interest (at thirteen), Henry turned 26, and began to have trouble with hill climbs. He was still sound on level ground and free moving, but his hocks/stifles bothered him on steeper hills. The last couple of trail rides we attempted in the hills (last summer) we turned back because Henry was clearly uncomfortable. My son rode him on short gentle trail rides and in the arena, and was getting bored with this.

            I offered to give him my horse or buy him a new horse, but my teenager’s interest in riding just wasn’t there. The last couple of trail rides I went on, my boy opted not to go. I think this photo is of my last ride—in August or September.

            After my husband got sick and died, my own interest in riding disappeared. I just didn’t and don’t have any emotional energy for this pursuit. When I think about it, the words “been there, done that” come to mind. My son wasn’t/isn’t interested. So for now, riding is on the back burner. Perhaps we will go for a ride some day. Or not. Doesn’t really matter. Many lovely rides are part of us forever. And the most important element of owning horses is part of our every day lives.

            What’s that, you say. You don’t ride—what’s the most important part then? That would be living with horses. I have known for a long time that if I had to choose between never riding again but getting to have my horses live with me, and riding all I wanted but having to board, I would choose not riding/horses living with me every time.

            Our horses are part of our life. We feed them three times a day and check their water and sit in the barn and watch them and rub on them and turn them out to graze along the driveway. My son’s favorite spot on our property is a swing in a big oak tree in the barnyard. He spends time there pretty much every day. Sometimes swinging high, sometimes just idly gazing at the horses and chickens and wild birds and all the wild critters that ramble about our place. He’s seen bobcats, coyotes, and every sort of deer from huge bucks to baby fawns up close and personal, as he sat in his swing and they wandered by. And always there are the horses. He spends plenty of time just hanging out with them—and has been doing this all his life.

            My strongest childhood memory of horses isn’t of riding them, though I loved to ride. It is of a swing that hung in my uncle’s barnyard out at the old ranch—in a big cottonwood tree. I spent many long hours there, lazing around on the swing, watching the cottonwood leaves flicker green and silver against the blue sky, and watching the horses idle around their corrals—particularly my favorite—the bright bay gelding named Mr Softime.

            If you had asked me, I would have told you that I was bored and that I wished my uncle would come out to the barn and let me ride. I was very horse obsessed as a young girl and I loved to ride. But though I have many riding memories, none of them are quite as strong as those memories of the swing in the barnyard and those long spacious idle hours just being with horses.

            When my boy was young I asked my husband to hang a swing in the big oak tree in our barnyard—and I was very consciously thinking of that barnyard swing of my childhood. I wanted my son to have that same experience—those quiet empty hours swinging in the green world and watching the horses. Andy, my husband, always said that boredom is the cauldron of creativity and I think that is true. If we schedule our children so that they have no time to be “bored,” we deprive them of the ability to become creative. But more than that, there is a spaciousness, a vastness, a freedom, in those long idle hours spent in nature—and to my mind a swing hung from a big tree in a barnyard where one can watch horses is the best way to spend such hours, bar none (I know, I’m prejudiced). Andy hung that swing over ten years ago and our boy has made good use of it ever after.

            So yes, we don’t ride right now. But horses are part of our life. And I would always choose to have horses here, even if I never do ride again. I truly believe that our horses have been/are/and will always be a great gift to my son. My husband was not a horse person, but he totally agreed with and supported this. Horse therapy is said to be the number one best thing for emotionally/physically impaired kids—so how good must it be for the emotional health of all kids?

            Anyway, I am really glad that my boy grew up with horses and I am grateful for our quiet, horse-filled barnyard and the swing in the oak tree—every single day of my life. Even if neither one of us ever rides a horse again.

A Success Story

                                               by Laura Crum

            When my son was seven years old and still reeling from the recent death of his pony, I bought an older rope horse that I knew well to be my boy’s new mount, hoping to both alleviate the pain of the loss and to make sure that my child could continue riding, which he was enjoying very much. And so, six years ago this October, Henry came into our lives.

            I paid five thousand dollars for Henry, which was considered a lot for a nineteen year old retired rope horse. But I knew Henry was sound and a reliable kid’s horse. One year after I bought him, Henry colicked, and I had to send him to colic surgery to save his life. So there went another ten thousand. At this point, I had a fifteen thousand dollar kid’s horse.

            Now I am not a rich woman. My husband is not interested in horses. Neither one of us really expected that horses would become my son’s passion—my kid liked to ride in a mild way, mostly because he grew up with/on horses, and hey, riding is fun. Still, my son was in no way driven to ride and compete on horses, the way many young people are—the way I was when I was young. So there really wasn’t any obvious justification for spending fifteen thousand dollars on a horse for him.

            But I did it. And my husband approved it wholeheartedly. And it was one of the best choices I ever made.

            My son grew up riding Henry. For six straight years we rode together two or three times a week. Mostly on the trails near our home, in our riding ring, and at my uncle’s roping arena. But also on the beach and in the redwood forest and up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. My little boy crossed busy roads (hundreds of times), rode steep, technical trails on multi hour loops through the hills, waded in the surf and crossed creeks, loped endless circles and galloped after recalcitrant cattle. Almost all of my riding time during these last six years has been spent escorting my son on his various horseback adventures.

            Many people assume that I did all this because I wanted my son to become a horse person like me. But this isn’t true. I wouldn’t have minded if horses had become his passion, but I didn’t expect this to happen. I didn’t even exactly WANT it. I just believe that growing up on a horse is a healthy way to learn to feel kind, empowered, and connected in a real way to the natural world. Riding horses is the number one therapy for impaired children. So how much good can riding do for any child? Also I wanted to share the joy I have always had in horses with my little boy.

            The downside of this equation is that horses are inherently dangerous. Since the era of the internet, I am able to hear about horseback disasters all over the world. It scares the shit out of me, to be honest. So many people, not always doing anything wrong, are injured and/or killed in a wreck with their horse. I tried to make good decisions, my son always wore a helmet, Henry was and is a VERY reliable horse. But I’m not dumb. Any horse can fall, there is no predicting the day you will meet an erratic driver when crossing the road, wasps can cause even the best horse to flip out, helmets do not protect you against every kind of bodily damage, including head trauma…etc. The risk is real, even when you are doing everything “right.” And I was taking this risk with my beloved only son.

            Still, I persevered. Somewhere in my heart there was trust that I was doing the right thing. And there was trust in Henry, and trust in my son. We rode together for six years straight. We did not have one wreck. We did not even come close to a wreck, in all the miles we covered during those six years. We had a LOT of fun. We saw some beautiful things.

            And now my son is a teenager. He is more interested in riding his bike and surfing on his boogie board and (sigh) video games than he is in riding. He’s also much more busy with schoolwork now that he is in a junior high homeschool program. He is still willing to ride with me, and we ride once a week or so, mostly fairly sedate (walk/trot) short rides.

            Because Henry is twenty-five this year, this reduced program seems to fit him, too. He doesn’t have a lot of enthusiasm for loping circles any more. But he is still sound, and is always eager to be caught, meeting us at the gate every time. I have no idea how much longer he’ll be able to be a riding horse, but we will keep riding him lightly as long as it seems to suit him, and as long as my son is willing to climb aboard his horse. And when Henry doesn’t want to be ridden any more, his home with us is secure for the rest of his life.

            Even if my son never rides much in his adult life, I consider this to be an incredibly successful horse story. We have shared so much joy together, and my son’s experiences of horses, and the lovely places we have ridden, have been virtually entirely positive. What price could you ever put on that?

            My take home message is this: Buy that older solid horse for your child, or for yourself, if you are a beginner. There is no way you can over-value the peace of mind that comes with riding a steady trooper. And the price of that horse is a good deal less than the bill for emergency medical treatment is likely to be. Let alone the emotional trauma. Horses like Henry are worth their weight in gold.

            Henry and my thirteen-year-old son last weekend—a real success story.

            Does anybody else have a “Henry?” If so, I’ll bet you can attest to how valuable these solid equine citizens truly are. And please, please, from the bottom of my heart-- when these great older horses are past their useful working life, don’t just pass them on, hoping they’ll get a good home. Take care of them, and give back to them for all the good things they’ve given you. I honestly think it is truly evil to sell/rehome a good older not-quite-sound horse, never knowing what becomes of him. Because they so often end up in terrible situations. (I do agree that finding a suitable home can be OK—if you keep track of the horse and are willing to take him back if the home doesn’t work out.) If any horses are deserving of a peaceful, happy retirement, it is the “Henries” of this world. My gratitude to our own Henry is boundless, and it is my pleasure to give him a happy home until he is ready to let go of life.

My Life With Horses--Part Nine

                                                            by Laura Crum

            I’ve written about my son’s pony, Toby, before—Magic…and Toby the Pony. Click on the link to find the full story of our magical little white horse. In the context of my own life with horses, the next two years were dominated by this pony. I spent most of the first year leading the pony around with my five year old son on him. I seldom actually rode myself. (Though once in awhile I did ride Toby to give him an “attitude adjustment.” Toby was a good pony, but he was a pony.)

            To those who think this sounds like an incredibly boring horse life, all I can say is that it wasn’t at all boring, from my point of view. But I’m not sure I am going to be able to explain why I loved this part of my horse life so much. However, I’ll try.

            Partly it was because I had truly come to understand that my greatest joy lay just in living with horses, and whether I rode or not wasn’t that important to me. Partly it was because having a pony of my own had been my childhood dream…and now I was making it come true. At last I had a pony (!) Toby was the first pony I ever owned and I still smile, thinking of him. And partly it was because I was just happy with my life overall.

            Another factor was that I had achieved the goals I had set myself in my life with horses. I had been a reasonably effective competitor at cowhorse, cutting and roping; I had trained some horses that I was really proud of. I’d crossed the Sierras many times on my own horses and camped with them in some amazing places. I’d worked as a cowboy on a commercial cattle ranch. There wasn’t anything that I had once been burning to do with a horse that I hadn’t yet done. And the depression I went through had freed me of the need to see my life with horses in terms of goals. I was happy just to enjoy my horses and my son. I think the fact that I was older helped, also.

            But mainly, of course, I was happy to spend my time this way because I loved my little boy so much. As I said in the last post, I would have done absolutely anything to give him a happy life, and I thought, and still think, that raising a child around and aboard horses (if you can do it without injuring or scaring them) is a fine way to create a happy life. Lest you suppose this is just my own prejudice, you may consider the fact that the number one therapy for handicapped kids is “horse therapy.” People pay big bucks to let their handicapped child get led around on a gentle horse. If it can actually “cure” handicapped kids, how good must horseback riding be for kids who are not handicapped?

            So I took much delight in spending my horse time leading my child around on our steady pony, feeling that I was giving my son a huge gift. And I really believe this from the bottom of my heart, in the same way and to the same degree that I believe in attachment parenting. It doesn’t matter if my son grows up to be a horseman or not. That isn’t the point. The point, to me, is that riding and interacting with horses throughout your childhood helps you to feel strong and comfortable within yourself, and to connect in a positive way with the natural world. That is, if it’s a positive experience.

            I took this part of it very seriously. As a young child I had many very “scary” moments on a horse. Because I was passionate about horses, these moments had never deterred me. But I knew many others who had been scared, or injured, or both, and who never again had any interest in horses. So I resolved to do everything I knew how to do (and I knew quite a bit about horses at this point in my life) to give my son a positive experience.

            To this end I bought Toby, a very steady 20 year old pony. To this same end, I led my son around for a year on the pony before I let him ride independently. I took the stirrups off the saddle for this whole year, in order that my kid should develop a good seat. I cannot count to you the miles I jogged, leading Toby as my son learned to trot on the critter. My long legged husband ran alongside the pony, as my son learned to lope. Once our child was pretty confident at all three gaits, I began lunging Toby with my kid aboard. And only when my little boy seemed absolutely solid, did I let him begin riding Toby independently—in our small riding ring. When we rode in larger spaces, I ponied Toby from my own horse, Plumber.

            This may sound overprotective to some, perhaps. But a lifetime of experience with horses had taught me to be careful, and my whole aim was to create a positive, rewarding experience for my son. And it worked. My little boy became a confident, happy rider. By the time he was seven years old, he could walk, trot, and lope Toby independently, and control the sometimes strong minded pony competently. And he began asking me to take him out on trail rides.

            Here is where I had a problem. Because Toby just wasn’t the right horse to take a seven year old out on the trails. He had a tendency to be “forward” outside, and I knew perfectly well that riding outside was very different to riding in an arena. Many more variables, a much less controlled situation. And so I hemmed and hawed about the trail rides. We took a couple of short ones (around my uncle’s ranch) with me ponying Toby from Plumber. And then life, once again, intervened. Toby got sick.

            The story of Toby’s death is described in “Magic…and Toby the Pony.” I will just say that it was very hard on my son when we lost his pony to cancer just after my little boy turned seven. Toby is buried here and at least once a month my son talks about how he misses him. Toby truly was a very special and important part of my life with horses and I will always be grateful to him. He was the first forever horse that came to me for my son.

Fortunately Toby was followed by another great horse. I have always believed that Toby sent us a gift in his passing and brought us another forever horse to take care of his little boy. Because of losing Toby, Henry came into our lives. (To be continued.)

            Toby is featured in my 10th mystery, Chasing Cans. Click on the title to find the Kindle edition of this book. (I have to add, I just read the Amazon reviews of Chasing Cans, and there is a group who absolutely hates this book, due to the fact that it is about a mother with a new baby. Yes, it is also an exciting mystery with lots of horses and a dastardly barrel racing trainer and plenty of action, and also includes the wonderful Toby. Most people, even the haters, point out that it is as well written as the previous books. However, fair warning: if reading about the "mama" experience turns you off, don't bother with this one. And if anyone who has enjoyed this book would post a review on Amazon, I'd be really grateful. This is one of my favorite novels in the series. I have to admit that it makes me sad that the non-mothers who hate reading about a career woman turning mom are the ones who seem mostly inclined to review it. I have no problem with anyone else's path, but since my own path became motherhood, I wanted to write about the experience. I tried to be faithful to the reality--joys and trials--while still crafting an exciting mystery. See what you think.)

 

            This saga begins here.  

My Life With Horses--Part Eight

                                                by Laura Crum

            I was thrilled to be pregnant. Neither my husband nor I had ever had a child, we were getting older (I was 42 and he was 49), and we really wanted a baby. At our respective ages it wasn’t that likely—without technical intervention, which we weren’t inclined to—so it seemed like a real gift. And I immediately resolved not to ride until the baby was born.

            This doesn’t mean that I think pregnant women shouldn’t ride. I just wanted to do everything possible to protect my unborn child at my advanced age. I gave Danny, the colt I had been training, to a friend. My old friend Wally was still riding and roping on Flanigan and Plumber, so they were getting plenty of exercise. And Gunner and Burt were turned out to pasture.

            Once again, I took a break from riding. I still fed my horses and saw them every day and I still loved them. In fact, I began to discover an interesting truth. The thing I enjoyed most about horses was not riding. It was living with them. This didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in riding any more. It just meant that I had come one step further in understanding my path with horses.

            Because I found that seeing my horses many times every day, feeding them and turning them out to graze, made me happy and content even though I wasn’t riding. I puttered around the garden, and I puttered around with my horses, and I waited for my baby to come and I was happy. I was aware that I was happy and this knowledge stood me in good stead, because having a baby wasn’t at all what I had expected it to be like.

            I had thought that the baby would be sort of an adjunct to our lives. My husband and I would do more or less as we had always done, the baby would just come along, too. But it wasn’t like that at all.

            I was unprepared for the fierce rush of maternal love, the absolute realization that I would do ANYTHING to protect and care for this little creature. If I had been asked, while I was pregnant, if I planned to give up riding for the next few years (or at least riding without a kid in the saddle with me) I would have said, “No, of course not.” But that is more or less what happened.

            This blog is about horses, not babies, and this saga is supposed to be about my life with horses, not my life with my child. But if you are to understand why my life with horses became the life that I have today, you will need to understand how I chose to parent my child…and why. I absolutely don’t blame you if you find this boring and not relevant, especially if you don’t have kids. Feel free to click that little “x” now.

            But, anyway, from the day of my son’s birth, the one main thing I wanted of life was to take the best possible care of my little boy. I’m not going to argue parenting styles here, but I will say that my own path became the “attachment parenting” path. I nursed my baby until he weaned himself (at 18 months), we slept in a family bed, and I carried my little guy in a sling and then later in a backpack, everywhere I went. I stayed home with him and took care of him (and this is one of the benefits of being an author—working at home was already my path). This is, I think, a wonderful way to raise a child, and I was very happy, but I did not find much time to ride. To be honest, riding wasn’t very high on my priority list.

            But I still had my horses and I still loved them. I carried my baby down the hill to feed every morning and evening. He grew up around horses. And when my little guy was six months old, I climbed up on my beloved Flanigan and took my baby for his first ride. After that I rode once in awhile—always at the walk and with my little boy sitting in front of me, always on Flanigan.

            Sadly, when my son was three years old, Flanigan died of an inoperable colic. He was the first of my “forever” horses to die and the first horse to die on my place. He is buried here…and I still miss him. I feel that his spirit both protects and guides me, however odd that may sound.

            After this I took my little boy for rides on Plumber. And we progressed to trotting and then loping. My son loved to ride. I think now that I should have put a helmet on my child, but I was confident in myself and my horses, and to be fair, we never had any problems. We rode a couple of times a week, in my riding ring or up at the arena, always with friends. For five years I rode only in arenas, at a relaxed walk/trot/lope. I can’t remember that I ever once rode without my child in the saddle with me in all those years. And no, I was not bored. I was happy. Plumber packed us like a champ until my son was five years old and just too big to ride comfortably in front of me any more.

            It was time for my boy to have a horse of his own. And thus came Toby.

            The saga begins here.

            I wrote Moonblind about being pregnant and Chasing Cans about having a nursing baby. Click on the titles to find the Kindle editions.

 Both of these books have lots of horses in them, but perhaps a tad less action than when my protagonist was single. What can I say? My life had a tad less action in it once I became a mama. I did my best to keep both mysteries exciting and still be faithful to the reality of motherhood. I really love these books, but I think that those who are mothers themselves are more likely to appreciate them than those who are not. The absolute truth is that I loved (and still love) being a mama, but it is not a life that “sounds” as exciting as my earlier life training and competing on horses. The fact that this part of my life with horses has actually been the most rewarding and interesting part to me is something you may have to take on trust (or perhaps my novels can portray this emotion more clearly than I can convey it in a blog post).

            

Racing a Shadow

                                                by Laura Crum

            A boy and his horse—racing their shadow on the ground. I love this photo. Not because its such a great shot in any technical way (it isn’t), but it captures a unique feeling. It reminds me of my own childhood on horses…and helps me to understand what’s really important (at least to me), in my life with horses today.

            The photo is of my twelve year old son and his twenty-four year old horse, Henry. Long trotting down the arena on a sunny November day. I snapped the shot from my own horse, Sunny—one reason it is not all that sharp. At the time, I didn’t even realize what my kid was doing; I just thought, look how free that old horse is trotting, and clicked a photo. It was only when I looked at the picture that I realized that my son was looking down at his (and Henry’s) shadow. It just makes me smile.

            Something in the captured moment speaks to me. Of an old horse who is still sound and free moving, not to mention as bombproof a riding horse as ever lived, and a young boy who is still in the magical space of childhood, both of them sharing a feeling of freedom and fun. This, exactly this, is what I meant to bring to my child through horses.

            To this end I have avoided formal riding lessons, though I’m capable of teaching them and have taught others to ride. I have not steered my kid towards competing at any horse sport, though I have competed at several events myself. If my son had shown a desire to pursue and compete at something (horse oriented or not), I would have honored this with my support. But he has (so far) expressed no strong desires in this direction, and I have to admit I am relieved.

            Because though I know there are positives in competition, and there can be much fun as well, I also know the negatives. I competed for many years at cutting and team roping, and I strongly believe that ALL horse sports (and every competitive sport) do, in certain ways, detract from the gentle magic that can happen when we are not focused on improving, achieving, and competing with others. When we ride for the pure fun of riding and enjoying our partnership with a good horse…well, all I can say is that a peace and tranquility become part of the experience. An acceptance of each other’s strengths and faults. A letting go and enjoying the moment. A freedom, pure and simple.

            Freedom from focusing on just the right form, freedom from judging our own performance, freedom from being critical of our horse. Freedom from wondering if we are doing better” or “worse” than someone else. Freedom just to enjoy being on a horse, racing our own shadow.

            For those very many of you who compete at some horse sport or other, I totally understand, after twenty years of competing myself, that one can compete on a horse and still remain centered in enjoying the moment, free from over-pressuring oneself and the horse. It can be done, and many of you do it. But there are very many who do not have the strength of mind and clarity to do this. Competition is a seductive thing—the drive to “improve” can easily become the very narrow negative need to win…to prove oneself better than others. To validate oneself in the eyes of the world. And yes, you see this in all disciplines, as far as I can tell.

            What I wanted for my son was something different from this urge for achieving goals and validation. I wanted him to ride free of the need to prove anything to anyone, just enjoying the partnership with his horse. I let the horse be his teacher, as well as his friend, and I gave them many, many hours together. On the trail, at the beach, gathering cattle, in the arena. I seldom corrected my kid, or gave him direction…only when it was truly needed. And Henry has been the best teacher my little boy could ever want.

            So, no, my kid, for all his hours of riding, does not have a very correct “form”. He does not know how to pick up the correct lead. (As an ex rope horse, Henry prefers the left lead, so we lope him in that direction in the arena.) My son has a good seat and knows where to be when gathering cattle, he can urge his horse through a creek or mud crossing, pop him over downed trees on the trail, and duck accurately for low, solid limbs as we trot or lope up a steep hill. He can open and close a gate from his horse. He has waded with Henry in the surf. Both he and his horse are troopers out on the trail, not intimidated by fairly daunting obstacles, and not complaining or weakening as the ride goes on for hours.  In that sense, my kid is a good hand. But I’m sure he (and Henry) would not win a ribbon in any horseshow class on earth. And I’m fine with that.

            Perhaps the day will come when my son will want to compete at something. Maybe he’ll wish he got started when he was young, as all very strong competitors seem to begin very young. Maybe he’ll blame me…why didn’t you get me started roping or cutting, it would have been so easy for you to do…etc And all I will be able to say is some version of this blog post. I thought I was giving you a better thing.

            I’m not sure I’m right about this in any overall sense. It’s just my own inclination, and my feeling about this particular child. I’m sure if my son had been very keen to learn to rope or cut cattle, I would have taught him. If he had longed to pursue any sport, I would have helped him. And I still will, if this comes our way in the future. But for now we are still, both of us, just racing our shadows. Having fun with our horses to no purpose but the fun.

            So how about you? Do some of you ride solely for fun, as we do, or are most of you happy to be focused on some goal, whether it be a fifty mile ride you want to complete, a dressage level you aspire to, or a year end buckle you are striving for? And I am happy to hear why others think that being involved in competition is the greater good. Fire away.

            

I Need Advice

by Laura Crum

So today I have a question for everyone who has ever taught a kid to ride. I haven’t done a lot of this. I’ve given the occasional lesson to the occasional child, and I’ve certainly supervised many beginners on horseback, but I have never been in charge of a kid’s steady progress from being a beginner through intermediate to advanced. Until my son came along.

The way I have taught my son to ride is based on the way I’ve taught him in general. I am a homeschooling mom and I am using the path called “unschooling”. At this point I can hear the collective gasp. Perhaps many of you are now feeling that I’m part of the evil empire. I have slowly become aware that many folks consider someone like me to be at best misguided, and at worst positively diabolical. Let me point out that I feel the same way about those who deliver their innocent children into the jaws of the public school system and abandon them there. But perhaps a horse blog is not the place to discuss this subject.

The fact is that “unschooling,” or learner led learning, has worked very well for me, both when teaching my kid to ride and teaching him to read (he is a voracious reader reading well above his grade level, in case you were wondering). With the riding, this has amounted to (mainly) giving him a completely reliable horse and providing him with lots of opportunities to ride. I let him decide what he wants to do on any given day. If he’s struggling with something, or I see the horse needs a correction to stop him from developing a bad habit, I’ll intervene and give my kid some advice and direction. At times I have had to ride the horse and “straighten him out” (this is very rare). Certainly I intervene if I see something developing that isn’t safe (though Henry is such a good horse this really hasn’t come up). But mostly my son just rides his horse and enjoys it. We trail ride, we gather cattle and drive cattle, we ride in the arena at the walk, trot and lope. We have fun.

This way of learning to ride is quite different from the formal lessons I was given as a child. I well recall a succession of demanding riding instructors who frequently insisted I do things that I felt were over my head and ride horses I was afraid of. I remember how scared I was, often to the point of tears. I think if I had not been so passionate about horses and riding, those formal lessons would have put me off the whole business for good.

My son has never been passionate about horses the way I was/am. Horses are a part of his life and he really enjoys them, but it has never been lost on me that if he were hurt or badly scared or seriously over-pressured, he probably would not want to ride again. So far, I have been able to prevent this from happening. Largely by giving him such a reliable horse to ride and being present and carefully observing every single moment he is on his horse. And letting him decide what he feels up to doing. The net result is many, many happy shared times on horseback. So far, so good.

My little boy has spent his whole life on/with horses. From six months to five years he rode in front of me on my horse, from five to seven he rode his pony, Toby—first on the leadline, then independently. From seven until now (he just turned eleven) he has ridden his steady, reliable Henry—on the trail, on the beach, on gathers…etc. Despite the lack of formal lessons and the fact that my son is a gentle, sensitive kid, inclined to be too passive rather than too aggressive on a horse, my boy has developed a good seat and can make his lazy horse mind him. He is a pretty strong, confident rider at this point. And therein lies the problem.

Lately we have had some fresh cattle at the arena where we ride. These are cattle that need to be trained to run down the arena and go through the chutes—before they can be roped. And this job has fallen to my son, who vastly enjoys it.

Henry, who used to be a rope horse, knows exactly how to run down the arena after a steer. My son is an effective enough rider that he can ask the horse to drive and the horse will obey him. The net result is that my kid, for the first time in his life, is blasting down the arena in a hand gallop, rather than a long trot or a lope.

No, Henry is not running away, he isn’t even going full speed. But its still pretty fast. And no, my son is not really completely in control; he just isn’t used to going that fast. I trust Henry not to buck or bolt or do something stupid, and these things are not happening. Henry chases the steer down and pulls up at the end of the arena, just like he’s supposed to. Both horse and boy are enjoying themselves. But I am a little bit freaked out.

What if, my mind keeps shrieking. What if Henry stumbles or even falls, what if my son just loses his balance, what if he comes off? Going that fast the odds are he could get hurt. The last time one of our friends came off in that same arena in the middle of a roping run he broke six ribs.

Part of me says my son is ready to do this. Part of me trusts his judgment and thinks that if he feels threatened by the speed/lack of control, he’ll pull the horse up. Part of me knows he has a very good seat and won’t come off easily. But part of me knows what he doesn’t know—how unpredictable the whole business is—and realizes he can’t really make accurate judgments with his degree of experience. Sure, he thinks he’s doing great, but he doesn’t realize the potential downside and might not protect himself enough. The biggest part of me just wants to prevent him from getting hurt—or even, God forbid, killed. Yes he wears a helmet, no that won’t prevent you from getting killed. The last kid I knew of who was killed on a horse was wearing a helmet. She broke her neck.

OK, maybe I’m paranoid. Kids my son’s age are jumping cross country courses and making actual team roping runs—for real. This is a lot tougher stuff than just running a steer down the freshly groomed arena at a hand gallop. Maybe I’m just way overprotective. I’m not sure.

So far I haven’t said anything, other than reminding my kid to shorten his reins before he kicks Henry up to the gallop after a steer, and telling him to be sure to stop the horse if he feels out of control. I applaud what a good job he’s doing with a big smile on my face. I try not to dampen his joy with my worry. And I am proud of him. He’s doing great, learning new skills, and he feels confident. He’s getting a lot of well-deserved praise from the ropers, which is good for him. But the thought of my little boy getting badly hurt because I allowed/encouraged this activity really bothers me. I’m pretty darn sure I wouldn’t think it was worth it. So am I making a good choice here?

Today I’d like to ask what others think. Have you taught a kid to ride and seen the young child progress to doing pretty dangerous stuff? Where do you draw the line? What is appropriate? I’m sure the parameters are going to be a bit different depending on the individual child, but how do you as parents/instructors decide what is a reasonable risk and what isn’t? Clearly if I wanted to avoid all risk I wouldn’t put my kid on a horse—horseback riding is a notoriously dangerous sport. But then, if I wanted to avoid all risk we wouldn’t drive our car anywhere either. And then, of course, we’d die of some odd, unpredictable disease. I get it that risk is part of life. But there are some risks that I think are just dumb—such as putting a young kid on a green horse, or anything less than a truly reliable, solid-minded babysitter. I would not choose to take that risk. But there are still these gray areas—like galloping Henry down the arena after a fresh steer. Where do I draw the line between acceptable risk versus unacceptable risk? What guidelines do I use? I’m not sure I know.

The Gift

by Laura Crum

I grew up with a passion for horses and the natural world. From ever since I can remember, I’ve loved animals and plants. I loved our family ranch, but we didn’t live there. We lived in a suburban neighborhood around a golf course. I was allowed to visit the family ranch—once a week at best, sometimes once a month.

No one else in my family seemed to have the same ideas I did. I longed to live where I could have horses and chickens and old barns covered in rambling roses, orchards of fruit trees, and barn cats….and live myself in a small, humble cottage. I wanted to gather cattle with the cowboys, and ride my horse through the woods on a quiet, lonely trail. I did not like our big suburban house or the sterile, paved neighborhood complete with speed bumps. Both horses and chickens were forbidden there. The big deal in that place was a swimming pool. I wanted a dirt road and a pasture.

As an adult, I worked hard to make my dream a reality. And I do have horses and chickens and cattle and barn cats, buildings covered in rambling roses, a few fruit trees, and a very small house. All my adult life I have owned horses, and I have spent many years riding with various cow folk, and taken my good horses through the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the coastal hills and beaches, both by myself and with companions. I have a pasture and my driveway is not paved. It makes me happy.

When my son was born, I thought of all this as a gift I could give him—the life I had always wanted. Unlike me, who fought to have any pets at all as a child, my little boy grew up with dogs and cats sleeping on the bed. He rode horses (with me) from when he was six months old. At five years old, I got him a pony. At seven he got his horse, Henry. Now that he is ten, he has been on hundreds and hundreds of trail rides and gathered cattle many, many times with our cowboy friends. The rambling roses bloom outside his window every spring/summer. He runs freely about our property, visiting with the horses, watching the chickens, swinging on his swing in the barnyard. And all this seems to make him happy.

Nevertheless, my son is not me. Though he enjoys these things we have, I don’t think horses will ever be his passion, as they are mine. He often talks about wanting to live in the city, on a busy street. Perhaps we all want what we haven’t got. In any case, I know he must seek his own dream. I have given him the gift that I could give. And I hope that these lovely things will always be a part of him. When I think of his smiling face as he rides his horse or runs down to his swing in the big oak tree, I know that the gift is not so much one that I have given as one I have received. I am so grateful.

Here are some bits of my “gift” that I wanted to share.

The roses have been exuberant this spring. This is Treasure Trove draping the porch.

Rose Dublin Bay on our tool shop/dog shed. Please ignore the mess in the shop.

My son visiting with Sunny.

Headed out on a trail ride with our friend/boarder Wally.

Bringing up the roping cattle with our friend Mark.

Henry grazing in front of the house.

Hope you all are enjoying the gift of horses and spring turning to summer, too, and may all your dreams come true.